COOK MY CHICKEN

"Yeah, I shot a bunch of footage around the office, edited it together on my Mac. Was thinking about entering it in some festivals. Probably won't. You know, not what this is about.

-- Michael Scott, The Office

------------------------------------------------------

Each Oscar video's backstory is completely unique from every other effort. Oscar Sunday, which was released in 2006, was a bold step with the intent to take Oscar Party to the next level. After all, why should we celebrate film, year after year, without produce some film of our own? It was pop-relevant, it was well-executed, and it was a complete surprise to the score of people that filled the apartment at Random Run Lane.

2007 was the winter where our lives unfolded. Clara was born a mere 12 days before Oscar Party 4, which was to be a small group of cinematic soldiers that braved the snow to meet in the billiards room of Fairfax Corner. As for my partner-in-film, his hands filled up planning his proposal to his wife. As it turns out, wedding bells and baby rattles can quickly drown out the call to get back behind the camera. But thanks to a quick script, an obsession of Lost, and Jon Rogers' ability to improvise, the Oscarma Initiative was unleashed.

Last year was a departure of one of our initial rules: focus the video on the Best Picture nominees. Short of Spud and I filming ourselves busting in to area McDonalds and drinking people's milkshakes, there wasn't a whole lot of material inherently within that quintet. But it allowed us to expand production values and scope and actually act a bit. We expanded the cast (enter Julie, Katie, Clara, Nordberg, and some guy Spud works with) in addition to Rogers, and The Strike was minted. And should I ever find a way to edit it down from 17 minutes, it too will one day show up on YouTube.

Which brings us to this year.

In early December I pitched an idea to Spud, mere days before we were to see each other in Charlotte for our annual Guys Trip with Nordberg and Dave. He met the idea with acceptance and expansion. It was green-lit. However, while it was months before the release date of 22 February, all the filming for such an endeavor had to get done during the aforementioned weekend, while not completely monopolizing the time we had reserved for important things like video games and sports.

With such a premise, it was easy to write jokes. But a series of jokes does not make a film; it makes a stand-up routine. So these jokes would have to be worked into a coherent story and script emblematic of the concept I initially pitched. Three days before the weekend, I had almost shuttered the project due to work and other responsibilities. However, Spud proved to be the storyboarder we needed. And then the writing came easily.

The one thing I can say to anyone looking to make movies of their own is to expand your capability. With each new effort, you should try to expand the techniques and facets of filmmaking. For example, this year we included:

• A dolly-shot action sequence
• The use of lighting
• Timely sound editing

So without much more waxing, I invite fans of The Office and Superhero Movies to collide in a little film we call "The Condo." Enjoy.

25 Random Things About Rob Harford

The current Facebook meme that has swept the Interwebs is the "25 Random Things About Me." It allows all those who choose to accept this mission in minutiae to share a quarter-century worth of facts to all those who know them online, whether it be their spouse or some kid they punched on the playground in the third grade. I have found these exercises in creativity to be good reads, as it forces people to be at their most random.

And everyone knows that Comedy's address is the Random House.

I was prepared to pen one of my own a few days ago, but than a blogging confidant wrote a counter argument to spreading popularity of this effort. I quote Rob Harford:

"This is a slight overreaction, but someone needs to say it. Why do I keep seeing these stupid "25 things about me" or "random songs on my playlist" notes all over the place on facebook lately?!?!?!Do you really find it that hard to express yourself that you need to do one of these lists?"

Harford goes on to make the case for people to tell stories, write effective arguments, and use creativity and depth. In essence, he's writing a prescription for more blogging. And while YAB has subscribed to these Points of Rob, we can still see the need for random lists such as the ones that have spread like wildfire. We live in America, Rob, and America's busy. We have little time for your old-world values like "exposition," "story development," and "paragraphs." Damn it, we need bullet points. If you don't have bullet points, then the terrorists have already won.

But as a tribute to the man who is willing to speak out against conformity, I hereby give you:

25 Random Things About Rob Harford

(note: I made up 5 of them. Let's see if you can guess which ones.)

1. His name is an acronym for Harbor Ford, an auto dealer in Englewood, FL.

2. Once played the role of "Joe Brescia" in Shawnee Group's unfinished Mafia Movie.

3. His whereabouts are perpetually unknown to Jasen Andersen.

4. Once had (and may still have) calves the size of chickens.

5. His favorite John Cusack movie is Must Love Dogs.

6. Is just waiting for the perfect moment to propose to Jennifer Love Hewitt.

7. Is a better Black Friday shopper than you will ever be.

8. Sneezes uncontrollably anytime someone says the word "Portugal."

9. Insists I'm hoarding a Hi-8 videotape of a DE camping trip.

10. Has based his Mafia innocence on the premise that he once had porn on his person.

11. Once had to adhere to a work dress code that involved a Hawaiian shirt.

12. Once ran a 110 High Hurdle Race in 14.5 seconds against Cherokee.

13. Is a nationally-ranked speed walker.

14. Has been known to bail out Chris Smith when Chris Smith offers to buy breakfast for everyone and then realizes he didn't bring his wallet.

15. Cried uncontrollably when Louie's grandmother died on the 90's cartoon "Life with Louie."

16. Drove my sister to high school every day for a year.

17. Had Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat hair.

18. Went against my advice and once was a member of Blockbuster's crappy online rental program.

19. The worst movies he has ever seen is The Fountain.

20. One of the best is Shaun of the Dead.

21. Was an extra in Starship Troopers 3: Back to the Minors.

22. Beat a man to death in Reno with a frisbee at dawn.

23. Shares a birthday with Maggie Gyllenhaal.

24. This does not make him Batman.

25. Will likely exact his revenge after he sees this.

Cond-nominations 2009

You know why kids want to play on travel soccer teams? It's not the competition from neighboring townships, nor is it the bragging rights of representing your town. It has nothing to do with playing for a squad with an official name instead of a number (suck it, District 5). Travel team perks start and end with one thing: uniforms.

Upon making my first team, the Medford Warriors, at age 11, I hoped at every practice that the evening would conclude with a post-scrimmage distribution of jerseys. Going into it, I planned on doing whatever it took to get my favorite number at time: 9. Don't quite know why I was a fan of 9 - I don't remember being a huge Von Hayes or Pelle Eklund fan. But I was determined to don that digit. When the time came, I reached into the box and pulled out my 9. Was it really that easy? It certainly seemed so. You know, until I held up the shirt and saw my 9...

...was up-side down.

Since that moment, the number 6 has been my lucky number. Let's hope that the case with my 6th Annual Predictions of the Academy Award Nominations. Last year, I ended up with an average 32 out of 40. Here goes nothing...

Best Picture
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
Frost/Nixon
Milk
Slumdog Millionaire

Best Director
Darren Aronofsky, The Wrestler
Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire
David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon
Christopher Nolan, The Dark Knight

Best Actor
Clint Eastwood, Gran Torino
Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
Sean Penn, Milk
Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

Best Actress
Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
Sally Hawkins, Happy-Go-Lucky
Melissa Leo, Frozen River
Meryl Streep, Doubt
Kate Winslet, Revolutionary Road

Best Supporting Actor
Josh Brolin, Milk
Robert Downey Jr., Tropic Thunder
Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt
Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
Dev Patel, Slumdog Millionaire

Best Supporting Actress
Penelope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
Viola Davis, Doubt
Taraji P. Henson, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Marissa Tomei, The Wrestler
Kate Winslet, The Reader

Best Original Screenplay
Happy-Go-Lucky
Milk
Vicky Cristina Barcelona
WALL-E
The Wrestler

Best Adapted Screenplay
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Dark Knight
Doubt
Frost/Nixon
Slumdog Millionaire

Drowning in the Baby Pool

In my list of New Year's Resolutions, I have to admit that one of them begs for a a backstory:

12. Avoid any further wagers as to whether or not a friend or colleague is potentially pregnant. I'm folding my hand on that one for now.

You can stop your groveling, Number 12. For the backstory follows, in the form of an e-mail I sent to one Jasen Andersen shortly after the incident. Enjoy.

-----------------------------------

Jasen, I have a confession to make.

So at the beginning of November, I headed back to NJ for a funeral for Christina Toms' father. Much of my high school group also made said trip. As Christina is delivering her beautiful eulogy of her father, Kristen Morea (of DtK fame) teared up to the point where she had to sit down. Her husband tended to her, and after gaining the strength, she returned to the group.

En route to the burial, the topic of Kristen's self-excusal from standing arose. While Kristen's explanation was that she simply overheated (it was a tad warm in the church), one Karen Yelito opined: "Kristen's totally pregnant."

The skeptic and brother-sister rival in me immediately called Karen a heretic and explained that it was indeed what Kristen said it was - a mere moment of emotion and humidity colliding. While there have been a run of pregnancies in the Shawnee Group as of late, I felt that a mere need for some air does not automatically dictate a child in utero. Karen's response?

"Oh, you wanna bet?"

So we bet.

There's no point in betting unless you can win something you really want, so I called it: "If Kristen does not produce a child by 1 August next year, I win. You will have to buy me Wawa food and deliver it to my door in Virginia." Karen accepted. And since I was so sure of my correctness, I pretty much agreed to whatever terms she wanted. After all, it's not like I'd have a need to pay up. "If Kristen is pregnant, you need to visit me in Maryland and you must bring Jasen Andersen along." I accepted. Then Karen got greedy:

"And Liz Grimm."

"No." The bet was already final.

This week, we get an e-mail to our listserve:

So Kristen & I figured we'd follow the crowd and also let everyoneknow that Kristen is pregnant as well. She is due June 15th. Too soonto know the gender but everything is going great so far.

My immediate resply to Karen: SONOFABITCH.

Post-script: So Jasen has agreed to bail me out (with the help of Grimm) as we head to Maryland sometime in the New Year. In other news, I'm still craving Wawa.

It's the Final Walkdown

Who names a band after a continent, anyway?

Welcome back to your place of work. Did you have a nice vacation? Lord knows I sure did. Get something good for Christmas? I know I did. Little did I know that when I asked Santa to bring me a "Massive Peter King Meltdown of Seismic Proportions," he'd come through in the clutch. I guess you can count on a jolly fat man this time of year.

Both of them.

But before we get to the results, let's rant a bit. As my Facebook status broadcasted the Monday following the season's end, "MERRY FOOTBALL CHRISTMAS," Week 17 was indeed a time for the stars to align. First and foremost, the Eagles made the playoffs because 1) they steamrolled the damn Dallas Cowboys, the 2) Houston Texans hosted an improbably victory over the Bears, and 3) the Oakland Raiders (?!?) went to (!?!) Tampa Bay and won (!!!), thereby sending Philly to the postseason. What's more - the Redskins lost to end 8-8 and the Dolphins defeated the Jets at the Meadowlands to send the Patriots unfairly home for January. Talk about a Christmas miracle.

The day following, Peter King let me down. Again.

After all, his favorite topics all backfired on that fateful Sunday: Brett Favre proved yet again that closing one's eyes and throwing deep rarely wins football games, the Patriots off-season speculation as to the rehab of Thomas Brady, and Peyton Manning played a series and then sat the rest of the game against the Titans. And somehow, King focuses his attention on how Rod Marinelli's a good guy.

But what is overlooked in all this is the fact that in a week in which the Predictorate AVERAGED a 12-4 week, Peter King goes 9-7. Hey everybody, here's a massive 3-game gift to close out your season. And boy did it help turn the tide.

Week 17 Podium
Everyone's a winner this week, but especially Greg Winsky, who went 14-2. Just like Charlie Manuel, this guy knows how to finish. Going 13-3? Just about everyone else.

Did I mentioned PK went 9-7?

Hey, We Dethroned the King!

1. JOSH STOCK (173-82) +11 over PK, -2 under 2007 -- Despite being 2 games off his 2007 mark, Stock took control of the top spot in Week 12 and never looked back. How can someone so good at picking winner not understand how to work the e-mail? Congrats, Josh. E-mail me your address for your wicked sweet prize.
2. ROB HARFORD (171-84) +9 over PK, punted in 2007 -- In his e-mails to me, Harford was always one to question the Vegas spreads and explain rationally how Sin City is trying to drive him mentally insane. Rob was a Top 5 stalwart all year and clearly the Mayor of Blogtown.
3. CHRIS CONDON (170-85) +8 over PK, +3 over 2007 -- Vindicated. Way to get your bronze on.
4. ALEX PYKE (168-87) +6 over PK, +19 over 2007 -- An improvement of nearly 20 games? Maybe you should have a child every football season, Pyke.
5. KATIE CONDON (167-88) +5 over PK, -14 under 2007 -- Who new picking favorites and home teams in close games could yield consistently stellar results? Also, Nordberg thinks she's a witch.
6. (5th) MIKE NORDBERG (167-88), +5 over PK, +3 over 2007 -- Nordbergs do their best when picking a week in advance when going on vacation with limited internet access. I guess Mike vacations a hell of a lot more than Chris.
7. (5th) LIZ ARSENAULT (167-88) +5 over PK, +1 over 2007 -- With every pick sheet, Liz is always kind enough to wish me well or ask how things are. For 17 weeks, I ignored her in the name of statistical tabulation. To which I now replay: I am well, Liz. Thanks for asking!
8. STEWART ROBINETTE (166-89) +4 over PK, +1 over 2007 -- No man has perfected the "My Out-of-Office Message is Up, but I'm totally sitting at my desk waiting for this week's Pick Sheet" better than Mr. Robinette
9. (8th) KRISTIN FISCHER (166-89) +4 over PK, -1 under 2007 -- Kristin always emails her picks to her husband via carbon copy when submitting. It's like she's taunting him.
10. STEVE PHILLIPS (165-90) +3 over PK, +6 over 2007 -- And what's more - he won our Condon Fantasy League this year. Welcome to the Club, Commish.
11. JIM CONDON (164-91) +2 over PK, Rookie -- Jim checks in at 11 as the highest ranked rookie of the year. He's our Matt Ryan, you know, if Matt Ryan lived in upstate New York and looked frightenly similar to my father.
12. JON ROGERS (164-91) +2 over PK, +13 over 2007 -- Don't Mess with Texas.
13. ROB THOMPSON (163-92) +1 over PK, Rookie -- Thanks to the Chargers Sunday night win vs. Denver, you came out on top. Congrats.

Here lies PETER KING at 162-93. Since Peter King follows professional football for a living, and you, well, don't, we give the tie to the Predictorate. This allows us to welcome these two into our Winner's Circle.:

T-14. JACQUES ARSENAULT (162-93), EVEN, +1 over 2007 and DAVE REIF (162-93), EVEN, Rookie

As for the rest of the field:

• JOHN CONDON (161-94), -1 under PK, +5 over 2007
• JASEN ANDERSEN (160-95) -2 under PK, -3 under 2007
• GREG WINSKY (160-95) -2 under PK, Rookie
• JEFF COLLINS (159-96) -3 under PK, -7 under 2007
• DAN ENTWISTLE (158-97) -4 under PK, Rookie
• TIM FISCHER (158-97) -4 under PK, -4 under 2007
• DAN JENKINS (158-97) -4 under PK, Rookie
• NORDBERG (157-98) -5 under PK, Rookie
• MARK RITTER (157-98) -5 under PK, +1 over 2007
• SPUD MELLOR (157-98) -5 under PK, -4 under 2007
• KRISTEN MOREA (156-99) -6 under PK, -14 under 2007
• MATTIAS CARO (156-99) -6 under PK, -7 under 2007
• CHRIS SMITH (151-104) -11 under PK, Rookie
• BROOKE JENKINS (149-106) -13 under PK, Rookie
• JOE DUNKLEMAN (147-108) -15 under PK, Rookie

THERE'S NO I IN TEAM, BUT THERE IS ME

Congrats to the two-headed monster of Time Zone Rebellion, defeating Blogtown by 3.5 games. I guess it pays to have your score count 50% when you're in first place. Raquette Ballers placed third, followed by Hello McFly and DC United (tie), First Wives Club, Disciples of Chris, 36th and Asbury, Manhattan Transfer, Heels of Tar, and Renegade FC.

Congrats on a great season, and we'll see you all next year. I'll be in contact with our winners.

The Resolute 59

Looking back in the archives, I haven't been one for New Year's Resolutions. I've been one for grammatical variances, I've been one for statistical reflection, and at a complete lack of ideas for novel change, I'm sure I've been one for closing the daily blogging gap. The Second Coming of YAB looks back at those efforts fondly, but finds them devoid of any actual commitment to change.

So for 2009, we stop hiding behind creative prose and comedic devices and actually lay out this list of New Years' Resolutions. Since we're only 19 hours into 2009, it's probably not too late to compile a compendium of wishful thoughts and pipe dreams. Let's get our list on.

1. Come up with a better name than the Second Coming of YAB. Writing is hard enough; I don't need a God complex on my watch.
2. Put up decorative shelving in the master bath and a dome light in the master bedroom. And thus, vanquish the dreaded "Punchlist Projects."
3. Wait. That was two. Ok, the dome light is number 3.
   
4. Go through my clothes and donate to a worthy cause. Or at the very least, an unworthy cause with convenient collection locales.
5. Prevent all people I know from using 0-Ten for a shortened version of the year 2010. That's not gonna fly.
6. Document on paper or blog something on witnessing the first Philly sports championship since I was 3.
7. Lose a total number of pounds that correspond with the jersey number of a kicker or single-digit quarterback.
8. Do my part to make Melt Your Face-Off a Top 3 Hockey Blog on the Internets.
9. Not break a single pair of sunglasses.
10. Retroactively get hooked on Friday Night Lights.
11. Retroactively watch every episode of The West Wing for the first time.
12. Avoid any further wagers as to whether or not a friend or colleague is potentially pregnant. I'm folding my hand on that one for now.
13. Own and read 4 biographies of former United States Presidents.
14. Cut together the funniest Oscar Video yet, leaving only emergency reshoots for Oscar weekend.
15. Document in every way possible the ever-evolving childhood of Clara Grace.
16. Make sure she's a lefty.
17. Lose a total number of pounds that correspond with the jersey number of a wide receiver too cool to wear a number in the eighties.
18. Finally watch Schindler's List and Chariots of Fire, two Best Pictures I've owned for years and never watched.
19. Reward those who have Dethroned the King over the last two years with proper prizes and accolades.
20. Drive an Audi.
21. Drive a Volkswagen.
22. Daydream about driving a Bugatti.
23. Expand my prowess in the sports blogging community.
24. Teach Clara Col. Jessup's "You Can't Handle the Truth" monologue from a Few Good Men.
25. Remember people's birthdays.
26. Buy Katie flowers for no apparent reason at least three times this year.
27. Organize my mp3s, and once and for all decide what my favorite song is.
28. Organize my DVDs, and once and for all decide what my favortie movie is.
29. See a Flyers game at the Wachovia Center.
30. Return some dinner invitations for once and host friends here in Centreville.
31. Abolish the phrase "cool beans" in all circles of communication.
32. Replace my cell phone.
33. In the spirit of Mookie, name my work laptop.
34. Lose a total number of pounds that correspond with the jersey number of a defensive back or running back.
35. Run a six minute mile.
36. Not die after running a six minute mile.
37. Teach Clara either calculus or how to ride a tricycle.
38. Begin learning German.
39. Not allow laundry to pile up in front of my dresser.
40. Go skiing.
41. Attend Guys Trip VIII.
42. Occasionally cross-post at The Virginia Condons.
43. Visit a new state.
44. Wear a watch.
45. Learn to cook ribs on the grill.
46. Make it to the CAN Final Four in softball come August.
47. Lose a total number of pounds that correspond a number greater than my age.
48. Take Katie out to a nice dinner.
49. Cook Katie a nice dinner.
50. Win some free food by throwing my business card in the fishbowls of local dining establishments.
51. Convince one friend or family member to drive a Volkswagen or Audi.
52. See Number 50, Mom.
53. Meet another member of our MYFO Staff in person.
54. Go to a concert at Wolf Trap.
55. Lose this number of pounds.
56. Keep my leased cars immaculate in presentation.
57. Find a Wawa within an 8 mile radius of my house.
58. Get paid to blog.
59. End this list on a random, unexpected number.
    

Rock Back and Fire

In 101 minutes, 2009 will be here. The year 2009 will bring upon the 5th Anniversary of You're a Blog. Who feels old now? (Jamie Moyer, put your hand down.)

In the early days of YAB, my writing was constrained by many parameters. For one, I was leading a life that endured more repetition that your average episode of Scrubs. (Only with less life lessons set to the music of Jack Johnson or The Fray.) I had a regular office job, lived in a regular apartment, and drove a regular car in regular traffic. I rooted for above-average sports teams, shopped for a regular list of groceries on a regular basis, and had a regular sleep schedule where I slept regularly in the same place in my regular apartment every night.

Okay, scratch the last one.

In this blog's infancy, I aimed to be different despite all above the above regularities. And in most cases in this world, "difference" can be defined by an adherence to a bare minimum of rules and standards. And yet, it was the Rules and Standards that I set for YAB that forced my template for bringing the funny. Some of these rules included:

• Blogging on a daily basis, meaning every single weekday including the occasional "observed Monday" holiday.
• Missing one of these clearly defined blogging days results in working harder on a subsequent day, blogging multiple times.
• A complete refusal to report or blog about something that the news media has already done the work on. If you want to know what's going on in the world, read CNN.
  
• A complete refusal to achieve reader traffic by artificial means, such as e-mail blasting, linking to places for a free pingback, and skywriting. Oh, how I loathe the skywriting.
• Posts must be at least 500 words. You know, because verbosity is the soul of wit.
  
• Always strive to be funny.
• Always strive to not be not funny.

You see how complex I made being "different?" With these many rules, I could probably put together an excellent romantic comedy script for the likes of Greg Kinnear and Sandra Bullock by now.

So now, a mere 92 minutes before 2009 is upon us, I've decided to return. What caused this? Bad Chinese?

(I'm no racist.)

You can attribute this second coming to two people, whether they know it or not. Let's review their casefiles. (Fictitious middle names have been added to protect the innocent.)

1. Robert Eugene Rockhound Harford - Of all the people who I led out of the darkness and into the blogging world, Rob has been the closest mirror image I've had. I'm sure somewhere in my archives I can pull that national anthem I wrote for his blog as proof. The nice thing about Rob is he never forgets. Whether it's a subtle jab at my inactivity or an incessant thirst for some Hi-8 videotape I have buried in a box from a 2003 camping trip, he remembers. He could be an almanac, you know, if almanacs had calves the size of whole chickens.
   
2. Frances Santana Moss Reynolds - (heck, just using her real first name has rendered her anonymous) It may have been a simple compliment at a Christmas party, but it meant more than you know. Thanks for reading.

So here we are. 83 minutes from an epic match between a giant crystal ball and gravity and I'm giving it another run. Gone are many of the rules that led to this blog's crushing demise. Here to stay are some new...guidelines.

• Any time your color scheme matched that of an 0-16 football team, it's time to tweak.
• I'll leave the Daily gig to Jon Stewart. Be prepared for exciting bouts of sporadic regularity!
• I can't believe what I'm about to type: PROPER TIME AND DATE STAMPING.
• Crossposting to Facebook, so random classmates from middle school can be in the know.
• Did I mention the PROPER TIME and DATE STAMPING?

You know why Phillies' pitcher Brett Myers was so effective in the playoffs after a tumultuous season that saw him eating on a Triple-A per diem in July? He stopped thinking about how to pitch and what he had to do with each and every pitch. He stopped adhering to rules. He rocked back and fired.

Not a bad mantra for 2009. This is going to be fun.

A Vote and a Smile

(originally posted 8/29/08)

Holy crap, it’s dusty in here.

As you may or may not have noticed, YAB has been on a sabbatical since, well, May. I’d like to say that it was because something awesome was going on in my life that prevented me from writing on a regular basis here in Blogspotville – but it’s just not the case. Work has been busy, despite every auto industry-related newspaper article would lead you to believe. But to come back now – on an idle Friday just before Labor Day – would give you reason to believe that I’m ready to return to entertaining family and friends on the nuances of married/parental/homeownered life. Any return to the scene probably means I’ve got something big to write about that warrants immediate publication.

Wrong.

You know as well as I do that I don’t write about politics much. I live in a region so saturated with Capitol Hillbillies that my neighbors in traffic do the work for me. But it’s an election year, and therefore, let’s consider this my quadrennial piece of punditry.

This week, the Democratic National Convention has been the story, what with their successful invasion of Denver and their subsequent displacement of up to three professional sports teams. (Meanwhile, the Rockies are bunkered up in their dugout, poised to take a Louisville Slugger to the knees of anyone who comes near them with a five-foot tall placard with their state’s name on them. I support political conventions.

It gives Jon Stewart all the material he needs.

But as the DNC has drawn to a close, the Republicans have taken the nation’s focus with the news that candidate John McCain has selected his running mate. Good for him. And while it appears that he’s in no hurry to reveal the identity of said running mate, rumors are that his chosen one has their mail delivered in the crucial swing state of Alaska.

Probably like you, I’m not one who just clicks through news links that are sent to me in e-mail. Therefore, I know not the name of the GOP’s appointed second fiddle. And like I said, I’m busy at work these days. So rather than do my due diligence – we’re just going to assume what everyone’s ready to assume.

The Republican VP candidate is a Polar Bear.

Like I said, there are probably several logical reasons why the above statement isn’t a valid one. Polar Bears may not actually live in Alaska. The life span of polar bears may be below 35 years. With migratory patterns between Alaska and Siberia or gasp, Canada, the US of A may not be their place of citizenship. But my fellow Americans, I assure you this:

This would guarantee the Presidency for John McCain.

Hell yes, I’ve got reasons.

1. Polar Bears are Bears, and thereby, score high in Adorability. Coca-Cola makes a point to remind us of this every holiday season. And just because a baby polar bear can't muster the dexterity in his paws to open a tiny glass bottle of cola, does NOT mean he can't step in the Commander-in-Chief role should something happen to his running mate.
2. Polar Bears can also be MEAN. There's something at the negotiation table about mauling that gets policy done. Polar bears are tough on crime, tough on foreign policy, tough on illegal fishing. Toughness is a good characteristic for a VP to have.
3. Soft and furry coat takes focus of whiteness off McCain's dome.
4. As good as a selection Joe Biden is, I don't like him in the Vice Presidential debate against a Polar Bear.
5. Polar Bears who are forced to wear a suit and tie, are by definition, hilarious.
6. PB and J - how's that for a campaign banner?

Hate Mail from Garden Gnomes

(Originally posted: 5/29/08)

One of the things you have to do when you switch from one job to another is make sure you leave nothing behind. Part of this is obvious, and actual. When you close the door to that old office for the last time, make sure you have taken every last personal item with you. What if I had accidentally left my diploma from GW sitting on the shelf? The next person to fill the position may accidentally assume they have gotten their MBA and start managing things they are far from qualified for. Won’t you be sorry when you here your old office building has been trampled by a fleet of angry zoo animals because some lackey in your old job signed a spend approval above his pay grade?

Note: That would be the best spend approval EVER.

But not only are your personal belongings things you can load into a box and throw in the back of your car, you also have to deal with the virtual belongings. After 5 years, do you realize how many things can be tied to your e-mail address? Answer: Eleventy billion. Just think about all the automated bill statements you have. If you lose visibility into this e-mail address, you better count on bankruptcy court. Because you will never be able to pay another bill ever in the history of forever. Period.

(Yes, I know this seems like an ideal scenario. But so is running water and electricity.)

In order make sure this didn’t happen, I wrote an e-mail to just about every address of friend and family I could think of, to ensure that our interwebbian communication will not cease on account of me decided to work for a different firm with a blue logo. It follows…(wait for it)…now.

Dear Everybody I've Ever Met,

I am writing to let you know that after today, you will no longer be receiving e-mail from me at this address. After all, today is my last day at SAIC. I've accepted a new position with the corporate office of Volkswagen-Audi, which from their web site, seems to be a small German firm that manufactures road vehicles. I've always had an entrepreneurial spirit, and I look forward to contributing at a small enterprising start-up. I start Monday. My German needs work.

From this desk, I've written (briefly counts "Sent Items") eleventy billion e-mails in the last 5+ years. And if you're receiving this, you've probably been on the receiving end of at least one of them. Well, if you receive an e-mail from this address after today, it's not from me. Barring the unlikely possibility that this company hires someone with my exact name over the weekend, it probably won't happen anyway. But if it does, beware.

That e-mail would be from a Chris Condon imposter.

Chris Condon imposters can't be treated lightly. For one, they're shorter than me more times than not. If there's anything I learned in life, you don't trust short people. (I already have a list of 7 people in my head who will no doubt be e-mailing me to argue.)

AND SCENE!

And judging from the overwhelming response, I lowballed that one. Try 14 people. If their ringleader, whose name is an anagram for “MINI SHORT CATS” ever gets them organized, we could have one serious pint-sized rebellion on our hands.

Das Question?

(Originally posted: 5/7/08)

I realize that yesterday’s introduction to working at VW left a lot of questions, considering it’s kind of major news that was casually slipped into a sporadically-written comedy blog. So in the spirit of full disclosure, here is a question and answer session that was recently held sometime recently somewhere inside my brain.(Note: This method of information was perfected by Rob Thompson back in our One Accord days. If you’re reading this, consider it a homage, rather than an obvious swipe of a brilliant idea.)

Were you looking for a new job?
Answer: Yes, I was, albeit passively. Forget soccer, the most grueling test of endurance in the world is coming home from one job and spending your evening on a computer looking for a different job. For the past two years since I had completed my MBA, this ultimately was always the plan. But as I described in my interviews, Life happened. We had a baby. We bought a townhouse. We painted a townhouse (We did not paint a baby.) So two years removed from grad school, I’m finally moving on.

Are you moving to Michigan? The Lions kinda suck.
Point taken. No, it appears that they’ve decided to come to me. Obviously, Detroit is the automotive capital of our country. Not only does it serve as home to the Big 3 (Ford, GM, Chrysler), their tiny German neighbor, Volkswagen, was nestled in the confines of Auburn Hills. (Note: not actually hills, nor the color auburn.) No longer wanting to be in their shadow, VW decided on a move. And because of this area’s surplus of tall, left-handed hockey fans, they decided to move to Herndon, Virginia. That’s where I come in.

Was this a promotion for you?
In terms of level or promotion, and in reference to my old position, I’m now my former supervisor’s supervisor. I jumped two levels, in essence. From my experience, I find that this is rather difficult to accomplish. Take Super Mario Brothers for instance. When you are little midget Mario (LMM), you can jump and barely land atop that low level row of mysteriously floating bricks. If you are fortunate enough to get a mushroom, you grow to be twice your size. That aforementioned jump just got a lot easier. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, Mario acid trips on a bouncing star and your athletic abilities heighten to the point where you can leap tall building in a single bound. That’s what an MBA can get you. It’s the Acid Trip Star of the Job Market.

Wow, that’s an unusual analogy.
Wow, that’s not actually a question.

Sorry. So what do you do now?
My official title is Financial Consultant for Corporate Group Functions. So I consult. Consulting is a magical term that features all the expertise with none of the chopping block. You provide the best financial analysis, reporting, and planning skills you can to the managers to which you are responsible, and then, disappear in a cloud of smoke. Of course, I’m still in training, so I haven’t had time to order a carton of Smoke Clouds from the Office Depot catalog. As for the Corporate Group Functions part, just assume it’s a set of a budgets of departments that are required to have a business. You know, like Marketing, and IT, and Pyrotechnics.

Where you workin’, homeslice?
Don’t get sassy with me, Inner Monologue. I now work in Herndon, VA, right on the Dulles Toll Road (not to be taken literally, I’m not in an insurance commercial with Dennis Haysbert.) It’s an easy drive in to the city from here, and it’s a better commute than to Tyson’s Corner. Besides, I was growing tired of Tyson’s complacency. Dude, Tyson, when are you going to get off your butt and try and annex more of a geometric shape? Corners are for slacker. I want to see you push yourself and annex a whole side. Oh, I love your chicken, too.

Condons Wanted.

(Actual post: 5/5/08)

You see what I did there? I used the grammatical gift of parenthesis to let you know when I actually wrote this. That way, I can re-initiate my pipe dream of destroying the back dating whilst giving you all a timely reminder of when the below happenings were actually scribed. It’s the best of both worlds.

Anyways, this is more of an update posting than anything. Many things have changed around here since I last wrote. First off, the very nature of “here” has been, in the words of one William Smith, “all turned, flipped upside-down.”

Surely your remember the four-letter acronym contractor (that is, they are an acronym, they do not contract acronyms) that employed me for the past five and quarter years? As it turns out, I do not work there anymore. For I have moved on to my next position, which probably has a lot to do with the embedded graphic I’ve used.

Yes, I am now working at a new acronym, this time only two letters. And the current two letter and the former four letter are mutually exclusive, meaning I’ve now been employed by six of the twenty-six letters in the alphabet (how’s that for a career aspiration?) In full, my new place of employment is Volkswagen Group of America. From my research, it seems to be a small German firm that manufactures road vehicles. I’ve always had an entrepreneurial spirit, and I look forward to contributing at a small enterprising start-up. I started a fortnight ago. My German needs work.

Aside from talking Beetles, we’ve got other cars to. Some fast facts:

• Audi: Audi is the official car sponsor of your current box office champion, Iron Man. You think Robert Downey Jr. is impressive? Go see this movie and tell me that the Audi Q7 (the SUV) isn’t unstoppable. Your mother’s SUV has 11 cup holders, how quaint. My company’s SUV RUNS OVER SUPERHEROES. I win.


• Bentley: I figured by now I would have met P. Diddy. With all the free pub he gives this small English branch of our company, he’s got to have an office around here somewhere. Speaking of our office, the company is in the process of moving HQ from Michigan to Virginia. It’s still pretty empty here. Mo’ cubicles, mo’ problems.


• Bugatti: Our annual sales target for this brand is 30 cars. That’s right. Thirty. When each car costs eleventy billion, it makes for a keen profit margin.


• Lamborgini: The other night, I had to stop at 7-11 to pick up some drinks for a dinner party we were hosting. As I was about to leave, a candy red Lambo pulled into the parking lot. Something inside me questioned the need of a Lamborghini target market member to shop at 7-11. But I guess Slurpees have no need for class wars.
  

So, like I said, it’s been two weeks in, and I’m loving the new job. I’m out in Herndon now, which makes for a nice home commute but a trickier softball commute. That’s okay, though. The latter one allows me to swing an aluminum bat at other stupid drivers. I'm back, baby.

My Morning Prayer

Dear God,

Much like a box of cereal insists, I wanted to let you know, Lord, that I have both a question and a comment this morning. First off, I want to thank You for allowing me to make it all the way to Clara’s day care this morning in the HOV-2 lane without the Virginia State Police pulling me over to do a passenger count. You have no idea how often this happens. (Oh wait. Omniscience. I forgot. You know exactly how often this happens.) Secondly, I would like you to mess with Susan Gibbs of the Archdiocese of Washington this morning. Can you make this happen? Nothing major, far from a smiting. You know, just something hilarious. How about when she’s in a staff meeting this morning and stops to take a sip of coffee, you’ve turned that coffee into mayonnaise. That sounds about right. Anyway, keep up the good work, what with all the management of the Universe and such.

In Your Name I humbly blog,
Chris

As I’ve no doubt touched on before, one of the central tenets of my belief structure about God involves Him having an incredible sense of humor. Not to reiterate, but there’s too much that happens in a coincidental uproarious way in life to think the contrary. He can appreciate a good joke/prank/rambling blog with a Detroit Lions color scheme. And what’s more? God likes Himself some good Capitalism. After all, if he decided to give humankind the Achilles’ Heel of Free Will, you better believe He’d subscribe to an economic system where man inherently is designed to act in his own best self-interest.

You know what an off-shoot of capitalism is? Marketing.

So when the worlds of comedy and capitalism collide, you know you’ve got a winner in God’s eyes. And a winner we had in the DC Metro (WMATA)’s commercial to encourage people to take public transportation to the Papal Mass that will be held in Nationals Park in a few weeks. Considering the parking situation over there, it’s a good idea, and if you’re going, you should probably adhere.

Check out the video….here.

The attention to detail in this 107-second only for the Internet's ad is truly excellent. The Car and Pontiff mag our first metro rider is reading is expertly crafted, the Latin chanting of all dialogue is nearly perfect, and even the appearance of the Arlington Catholic Herald in the background is a nice touch. Aside from the fact that the Metro is 238% less crowded than usual, it’s a spot-on pre-enactment.

(DELETED SCENE: Pope using divine intervention to solve the Sudoku in the Post Express paper.)

Now, the ads have been pulled, thanks to our villain Susan Gibbs. From the Post:

"Our concern is that this was a bad bobblehead," said Susan Gibbs, a spokeswoman for the Archdiocese of Washington. "You had unauthorized merchandise, and you had a misdressed pope."

To my knowledge, bobbleheads are incapable of sin. So what’s so bad about them? Ok, so apparently Popes don’t wear red skull caps, and their choice of cape color may also be misguided. But seriously?

Anyways, it shall live on in YouTube infamy, and more people will see it now then before BECAUSE of the controversy, so it appears God intends to have the last laugh. (Psstt…MAYONAISE IN THE COFFEE.)

In the meantime, be careful how you treat your Bobblehead Pope. Just because he can’t say no doesn’t mean you can ask for all the plenary indulgences you wish.

Where's your Gold Star?

The following is a step-by-step instruction list on “How to Brag About Your Kid.”

1. Have a kid.
   
2. Make sure she’s awesome.
3. Brag.

See, with only three steps, you can be one of those people who always can proudly enter unrelated social conversations and somehow steer the dialogue towards the excellence of your offspring. The only problem? The market’s flooded with charlatans and other lying types. Not everybody’s kid is awesome. If everybody’s kid was awesome, that would mean that twenty years from now, all adults would be awesome. We would live in a world without problems, disease, depression, paparazzi, and crappy relief pitching. But we know this not to be true. In fact, this world is far from it. I can say this, despite being an optimist. So where does the formula not compute?

Most parents are liars.

If you’re going to tour your kid as awesome, you better have proof. Just like any court of opinion, hard evidence is required in order to substantiate your claim of youthful grandeur. Now me? I wouldn’t come to a knife fight without a knife, so the mere action of introducing this as a blog topic means I’ve got the dagger to back it up. That’s right, you Interweb skeptics.

My kid is awesome. And I have proof.

Every now and then, Katie and I need to rely on a back-up daycare program that my company provides. In case your regular day care option in unavailable, I can take Clara to Bright Horizons, a center designed for sporadic use. All you have to do is 1) provide a child, 2) give them feeding and sleeping instructions, and 3) pray to God that you don’t get a phone call during the day because she ate a crayon. All in all, we’ve used them about 6 or 7 times this year and we’re very pleased with the service. And what’s more, they’ve given us the proof that Clara is awesome. How?

She gets a report card.

That’s right, I’ve got awesome documented. Ok, sure, it’s for informational purposes mainly – listing feeding times, food choices, sleep schedule and all – and this is helpful as parents. But down in the “From my teacher” section, it’s an open-ended insight into the awesomeness of Clara. I’ll translate for you.

“Clara loves the stacking cups, balls, and shape pieces. (There isn’t a single geometric shape that Clara doesn’t dominate.) She explored all the toys in the room. (It’s a shame she wasn’t born 500 years ago, Africa would have been discovered by Vasco da Clara.) She played Peek-a-Boo through the tunnel on the crawler. (you know, after destroying all the teachers in a game of Risk where she managed dominate despite having to start in Europe. And by Peek-A-Boo, we mean “Strategic Recon”, a game she plays that her Uncle Mark taught her.) She also played hide and seek around the tunnel. (That’s right. Hide AND Seek. Not Hide and Take a Nap in your Hiding Place. Versatility, baby.) We read books and sang songs. (Simultaneously! That’s how she rolls. She also wrote a mini-musical featuring her stuffed bunny, and it was about man’s longing for social acceptance but at the expense of ethical decisions. She ran out of time, so it’s only two acts. But hey, if your kid drew some lines on a paper, that’s art, too.)”

I hope Timmy Eats Them

Nice try, Visa. I’m onto you.

A few months back, I took your rival, Citi, to task on your egregious logic drain in your commercial by which a couple of wayward Swedes had to check a book of Norwegian genealogy to find out they were in fact, Swedish. I know that you’re behind the marketing 8-ball, considering MasterCard will long be remembered as THE ad campaign to end all credit card ad campaigns. As second fiddle, just trying to keep up, okay?

Now prior to MasterCard’s “Priceless” commercials took over, Visa’s “For everything else, there’s Visa” was considered the toast of the Madison Avenue credit division. They had people traveling the world, comfortable that they could always count on their little blue card to get them out of a financial jam. And since Visa’s omnipresence (more so than American Express and MC) remains true, there’s no reason to move from this campaign.

Life Takes Visa?

Ok, that’s decent enough. However, if you’re going to take your production values up a notch, let’s make sure you avoid the logic errors that botched Citi’s tour of Scandinavia.

I give you the Visa Cinema Card spot.

From a conceptual standpoint, it’s damn clever. Getting into a movie in time to see the previews is an oft-admired goal; however, the slowness of lines and idiocy of theatre workers often prevent you from achieving it. Therefore, the premise that paying with cash takes too much damn time, and a Visa card could prevent such a slowdown is clever. Throw in an action-adventure theme and original score, and you’re commercial should be a home run.

Should be…

There are two things I choose to highlight. One of them will be humorous. The other will be damning.

1 – The Humorous – As our heroic couple looks up to the clock shortly after purchasing their tickets, we get notice one of the names of the film this Futuristic Movieplex (FUTUREPLEX) is currently offering. I’m not saying that it’s their film of choice, but I give you – TIMMY THE GRIZZLY. Now, I’ve never had to name a grizzly bear in my current line of work, but I have to think “Timmy” isn’t on the top of my list. Are you afraid of a grizzly named Timmy? What, are you afraid he may do a little dance and make you a sandwich?

2 – The Damning – There’s one minute to go once our esteemed couple buys their tickets. However, since Mr. Cheapskate must have not taken his ladyfriend to dinner, they are destined to hit up the refreshment stand. Where must they go? Of course. UPSTAIRS. The Futureplex has 38 screens, multiple floors, and somehow, the only place to buy some Twizzlers is up a flight of stairs. I find this hard to believe. But hey, maybe there were budget cutbacks since the theatre builders spent half the budget on a life-size bronze bust of Timmy the Grizzly in the lobby.

HOWEVER…

I would like you to check out the background of the shot at two the shot at 24 seconds. As Captain Popcorn (who I might add, ends up with different food between leaving the concession stand and the balcony) swings from the rafters with snacks and girlfriend in hand, he lands on the ground. And for a split second, when the camera remains wide, there APPEARS TO BE A CONCESSION STAND ON THE FIRST FLOOR. Now, the evidence may be inconclusive, but I believe in the back right of the shot would be a perfect place to have purchased some snacks.

But hey, adventure’s fun, too.

Baby Einstein on the Beach

Two posts ago, I mentioned that we, with Clara as a part of our Nielsen rating demographic, are a Baby Einstein family. For those unfamiliar with the product line of educational DVDs, let me clear up something that I wouldn’t had known had I not become a member of their frequent viewing audience.

Firstly, Baby Einstein does not feature smaller, miniature versions of history’s great minds and artists. It’s not like Muppet Babies, where you can throw on a diaper and dock some height so that we can all enjoy a smaller version of an established cadre of great characters. There isn’t a baby Albert Einstein running around saying adorable things with a German accent and trying to explain relativity to a puppy named Patches. It’s probably best that the designers decided to go in a different direction. After all, Einstein is known for his trademark wild, gray hair and mustache.

That would make for one creepy baby.

As for the content, for those unfamiliar with their work, Baby Einstein has a subject matter aimed to teach small children important words. You know, things like colors. Shapes. Numbers. It makes sense to start with these basic building blocks of our language. When I took Spanish I in high school, the fifth chapter of our books was about the environment. Apparently, once I had school supplies, places, colors, and family members down, it was time to protect our world. I kid you not – one of el vocabulario redacta was the Spanish words for “nuclear winter.”

Apparently, the outlook from one textbook publishing company for the next century’s a bit bleak.

But back to the programming. By method of repetition, and a combination of photography and puppetry, Clara is now reading on an 8th grade level. She found “A Separate Peace” overrated, longs to read other Shakespeare besides Julius Caesar, and can actually understand many of the articles in Financial Times. Who knew all it would take is a couple of hippo hand puppets teaching the horse hand puppets that if you have two of something, you can share.

And man, these things are addictive. I would rather watch Baby Noah teach me about the animals of the world than watch Everybody Loves Raymond. Do you know what they teach babies in Baby Noah? They teach you “wombat.” Yes, in the Outback chapter, you learn to identify kangaroos, koalas, geckos, and yes, WOMBATS.

This kid is going to know wombats at 13 months? I’ll clear some shelf space for her Fields Medal now.

One of the fun perks of working for Baby Einstein is crediting various historical figures as tops in their respective fields by naming their expertise after them, when it comes to children’s DVDs. To date, it appears that Einstein, Beethoven, Mozart, Wordsworth, McDonald, Noah, Monet, da Vinci, and many others. I’d like to take the opportunity to honor some other people with their own videos here.

Baby Nordberg: Learning Cartography
Baby Mellor: Learning Fantasy Sports
Baby Caro: Learning Colonial History
Baby Reif: Learning Automotives
Baby Harford: Learning Relationships
Baby Jester: Learning Cinema

And …

Baby Yelito: Learning Journey

Karen Yelito is Awesome! (For Now)

You remember last year when I spoke of the glory of Lacey Smith concerning her exemplary prognosticating in the first two rounds of the NCAA tournament? No? Fine, here’s a hyperlink. After 500 words of explaining her excellence, she went on to…well…NOT WIN You’re a Bracket II. That honor was bestowed upon Mike Nordberg, who managed to get the LEAST amount of games correct, and then hit the overall winner, Florida in the final. His pick of the Gators gave him 32 points, which he miraculously used to overcome the 31-point deficit he faced. Amazing.

(Apparently, this was Mike’s One Shining Moment, as he chose to “ride on a fancy submarine” over “defend his title.” He is noticeably absent from this year’s festivities.)

So all I'm saying, is that just because you're in the lead for the time being, it doesn't automatically confirm that you will be crowned the You're a Bracket III champion. And of course, we would like to feature the excellence of those in the driver's seat, so we'll do it. Just keep in mind that this is far from a coronation.

I give you Karen "The Coffee Machine" Yelito!!!

With only the Final Four standing in her way, Karen has amassed an impressive 101 points to date. If she goes perfect in the last three games, she could end up with 165 out of 193, easily a record for the YAB tourneys of the last three years. Her secret? It's all in the method.

1. Sit down with an empty bracket.
2. Crank some Journey.
3. Let the music be your guide.

I have no doubt that the silky voice of one Steve Perry is what has propelled Yelito into our top spot. She never Stopped Believin' in Xavier. She welcomed Louisville into the Elite 8 with Open Arms. She rooted for Davidson Faithfully (at least for a round). Any Way You Want It, Karen Yelito had it this year. And with 3 of the 4 Final Four teams (sorry, Texas), she's got the right to brag.

Or does she?

With four teams, three games, and one championship left, there are 8 different scenarios that can play out next weekend. And while she may feel invincible, (what with her picks she made like 3 minutes before leaving for work that day), it's worth mention that Karen will be crowned thy champion in only ONE SCENARIO. For those of you scoring at home, here's how next week may unfurl.

If the final game is:

• North Carolina over UCLA: The Coffee Machine is your winner
• North Carolina over Memphis: David 'I Don't Want Your' Reif is your winner
• Kansas over UCLA: Kelly "The Darkhorse" Liggett is your winner
• Kansas over Memphis: Liggett's got the Jayhawk lockdown again
• UCLA over North Carolina: Why, that would be CHRIS CONDON!!!
• UCLA over Kansas: Tim "From 15th to 1st" Fischer comes out of nowhere.
• Memphis over North Carolina: Greg "Just Winsky, Baby" is your man
• Memphis over Kansas: Winsky gets the square.

It's far from over, kids.

3 Rites of Bachelordom

Hello? Anybody here?

Of course, I knew the answer to that question. Since the women of my household were driven by yours truly to Dulles International Airport at the crack of dawn Saturday, there better well be no one in my house answering back to my rhetorical query. You see, as parents, we are aiming to instill our child with very important lessons that will help her grow and develop. You know, things like colors, shapes, numbers, going on spring break –

Yeah. You heard me.

So while Katie and Clara are livin’ la vida Pensacola for the next few days, I’m alone in the townhouse for the first time, well, ever. And while it’s big and empty, I need to make the most of it and do the 3 things that I’ve always wanted to do in our new residence and have yet to have the opportunity.

1. Take a nap.

You see, we set aside some money in our new house budget to partially outfit the place with some select pieces of new furniture. Now ever since I graduated GW, Katie had always said that she’s like to get me a comfortable chair. And after much deliberation, I found a leather recliner that worked perfectly. It came the day before Clara’s birthday – a day I spent painting the stairwell in both fast and furious ways. In fact, at day’s end, I informed Katie that I’m taking the next 11 minutes to “sit in my chair.” And while much sitting has happened, I had yet to take a nap on purpose in my vaunted throne du Chris. Sure, there have been plenty of “Condonaps” – those which go unplanned in every way. But never had I lied down with full intention of taking the next 40 minutes to an hour to rest. Well guess what? After a early gym session on the way back from Dulles, I grabbed a blanket and did exactly that. OBJECTIVE COMPLETE.

2. Take a bath.

Another nice feature about our place is the larger-than-expected master bath. In addition to having a double sink and a shower stall, it’s got a large bath tub. Now, I’m not exactly a tub guy – showers serve their function nicely, thank you very much. But perhaps I favor the shower just because I haven’t crossed paths with a appropriately-sized one since I was 9. But this tub is large, and there’s more than enough room to just lie back and relax. Now I’m not advocating the bubble bath – what with all the scented candles and such – but I am advocating the water nap. Endorsed by my own daughter who fell asleep the first time we took her in a swimming pool, the motion of water is enough to cure an insomniac. And since attempting such an endeavor in an ocean or deep end often ends with, well, drowning, a bath would be a perfect opportunity. OBJECTIVE COMPLETE.

Despite my disclaimer, Nordberg I’m sure will call me out as a woman for the last one. To counter that effect, I submit the third thing:

3. Watch Band of Brothers

Short of hanging drywall, I can think of no more manly activity than watching a mini-series about World War II. Since I’ve never had HBO, I miss out on great events such as this, and with Tom Hanks’ new John Adams feature out, it reminded me of my interest in seeing Band of Brothers. Now I am only halfway through, but it’s been absolutely fantastic so far. Even though I know how it ends (America wins, Nazis lose), I can’t wait to polish off the last five episodes.

Otherwise, I’m just going to have to imagine wartime dialogue whilst watching Baby Einstein.

Tip of the Hat, Wag of the Finger

You see? That’s just not fair.

About a month ago, our company made a long-overdue strategic decision that kicked our existing maintenance vendor to the curb. Their contract had run out of options, and frankly, even if there were more, we probably would have said, “thanks, but no thanks” and given them the Heisman. In came a new firm, ready to take the torch of HVAC maintenance, landscaping of grounds, and janitorial duties. (Actual torch, however, was frowned upon. All three tasks probably involve some highly flammable material.)

The new guys are very different from the old guys. The subscribe to completely different values – ideals such as “competency, timeliness, and know-how.” It’s a refreshing change, to say the least, knowing that there’s a new sherriff in town – one that knows his way around an electrical outlet installation. The old guard has been run out of town, and while I do my best to clean up their A/R report, it’s unlikely I’ll invite them back for one more drink at the Corporate Real Estate Saloon. Over the last five years, there have been plenty of bullets flying back and forth, and it’s nice to see that the cavalry has finally arrived.

You may have notices a plethora of Old West analogies in the last ‘graph. Why would I do such a thing? Oh, that’s right. To provide an excellent segue to the point of this post altogether.

THE NEW GUYS WEAR COWBOY HATS.

Ok, not all of them. Just the one in charge of this building. But true to form, he walks around the property in a company issued windbreaker, workpants, and YES, a suede brown cowboy hat. Now the way I see it, there aren’t a whole lot of professions that you can get away with donning a ten gallon at work, but apparently being the one blue collar guy in a building full of white collars gives you that authority.

Am I saying I want to wear a cowboy hat? Of course not. That would look ridiculous with even the most casual of business casual dress. But it does bring up a greater point that I would like to address here now.

We need to bring hats back.

Look at movies from the 50’s, like The Apartment (okay, 1960). All the men went to and from work, in complete respectable suits. If it was cold, they were overcoats. If it was warm, they wore blazed. But no matter what, they wore HATS. Yes, hats that matched the suit, and kept their heads from getting wet. They were high-fashion AND high-function. So seriously, what happened?

BRING BACK THE FEDORA.

I would love to make this part of Corporate America’s required attire once again. Remember back in middle school when the teachers would arbitrarily declare one day a year “Hat Day.” Those days were awesome. It gave people personality. It gave them life. Now all we’ve got for that are ties. And half the time and those are a hassle you’d prefer not to wear anyway.

But a fedora? A fedora is cool. Custom-fit, one for each suit – that’s what we need to return to. Who’s with me? Who will wear a fedora?

Sure beats a cowboy hat.

October Madness!

As you may have noticed, we didn’t get around to previewing half of the NCAA Men’s Basketball bracket last week. You see, once Siena knocked down Vandy, we got ecstatic with our chances that this just might be the year that we win it all. Any additional analysis went out yon window, leaving YAB Nation with only 50% of a preview, of which about 12% wasn’t completely fabricated in every way.

In order to make it up to you, we’re going to turn that Preview into a Review, by simply screwing with the space-time continuum further, and kicking the letter P to the curb. (Sorry, P. Maybe Sesame Street will throw you a bone and let you sponsor an extra episode someday soon.)

NCAA South Bracket Review

First Round

(1) Memphis 87, (16) UT-Arlington 63 – Why did it happen? Because God has made it clear to all 16 seeds that they’re not allowed to ever win a game. If they were allowed, they’d be called 16-4 seeds, as to give them the illusion of being dangerous 12 seeds. Plus, the Tigers have Chris Douglas-Roberts. Never trust a man with three first names.

(8) Mississippi St 76, (9) Oregon 69 – Why did it happen? Because Oregon spent too much time in the Nike “What Not to Wear Lab” and missed the pre-game shootaround.

(5) Michigan St 72, (12) Temple 61 – Why did it happen? Temple has a game named Dionte Christmas, arguably their best player. He didn’t score a damn point in the first half, completely my 3-team Philly screw up teaser (0-3 is not good). Somebody ruined…himself.

(4) Pittsburgh 82, (13) Oral Roberts 63 – Why did this happen? Because I mocked them openly over on MYFO. Sorry, guys. At least you have salvation still going for you.

(6) Marquette 74, (11) Kentucky 66 – Why did this happen? Because of brand name confusion. I blame KFC. For years, they were known as Kentucky Fried Chicken. In order to allay concerns from health fanatics, they dropped the unhealthy word (fried) from their moniker, hoping people would be fooled. Of course, no one expects the other side effects. In doing so, KFC lost its statehood altogether. The Wildcats have no fast food chain to call their own. Wandering from Arby’s to Taco Bell in the middle of the night, they are value meal nomads. That wears on the old treads, and makes it impossible to generate a surprising upset. The loss is on your watch, Colonel.

(3) Stanford 77, (14) Cornell 53 – Why did this happen? I have no clue. However, the media didn’t have a single shred of basketball analysis to add to this game, other than the combined SAT score would kill any other matchup. Real brilliant, guys. For the record, other tourney schools in the US News Top 20? Duke, Vandy, Notre Dame. Apparently, being smart isn’t a requirement to make the Sweet 16.

(7) Miami 78, (10) St. Mary’s CA 64 – Why did this happen? Because every year, one major conference team who has no business not getting upset holds form and beats a trendy underdog. Plus, Little Rock is so much more like South Florida than California.

(2) Texas 74, (15) Austin Peay 52 – Why did this happen? Because I dropped P from Preview. Sorry, Austin.

Second Round

Memphis over Mississippi State – Damn you, alphabetical order! You win every time!

Michigan State over Pittsburgh – Because the Big East hates me. Bane of my existence this year. I just can’t figure them out. It’s kind of like Eli Stone. For those who turn their TVs off immediately after Lost, you’ve been missing a highly entertaining law dramedy starring Johnny Lee Miller (Hackers!) and Natasha Henstridge. It’s a great show, but at some point, ABC’s going to decide it’s not their next hit and start screwing with the timeslot. It’s already been confirmed Lost is taking in April 24, so what becomes of it then? Oh, and Drew Neitzel was a rebounding machine.

Stanford over Marquette – Just because your name begins with M, it doesn’t mean you’re automatically in the Sweet 16.

Texas over Miami – Matthew McConaughey is a notable Longhorn alum. Humberto Reboredo aptly represents the Hurricanes. This game was decided by “Number of Movies Each Has Done with Kate Hudson.” Sorry, man.

You're a McBlog

It’s time to check in with our good friends at McDonalds. Since I assume from their surname that they call the Emerald Isle home, it’s always nice to honor my fellow countrymen, countrywomen, and countryfryguys with a little bit of blog publicity.

(I don’t know what it is about fast food that makes it such a frequent topic here on YAB. It’s not like I eat it all that often. But probably when you are looking for a topic in the morning and you pass 37 chain restaurants on the way to work, they have a way of seeping into the comedic subconscious. But I digress.)

First things first, we send our best to the family of Herb Peterson, as he will be remembered in history as the man who invented the Egg McMuffin back in 1972. He passed away Wednesday. He was 89. While there appears to be no signs of foul play (HE WAS 89.), the Hamburglar has been taken in for precautionary questioning.

Wow, the Egg McMuffin. This guy invented it. For decades of fast food, no one had even imagined the notion of placing a conveniently circular cooked egg patty between the two ends of an English Muffin. THANK GOD FOR HERB PETERSON. Without him, you breakfast value meal today could consist of an English Muffin placed between two egg patties. What a mess.

And somehow, I’m sure the guy who invented the McRib Sandwich is continuing to live in anonymity, despite his crimes against humanity.

Once thing is clear about McDonalds – they sure know how to brand. No matter what, for the rest of all eternity, anytime somebody affixes a “Mc-“ to the beginning of any word, you’re going to assume that it has to be associated with the Golden Arches. McMansion? Yep. McPaper? Why not. McDegree? Yep, complete with grease-stained diplomas. While they may be no more than clever literary devices for less-than-clever journalists, they have permeated our vernacular to the point of exacerbation.

(That last sentence brought to you by SAT Verbal flash cards, no doubt.)

But if the trend is to exist, count on Mickey D’s to take advantage of it. Let’s say you’re sitting at a red light, enjoying the McDonald’s Snack Wrap you purchased at their drive-thru moments ago? In fact, you love its combination of ranch dressing and minimal prep time so much that you would like to work for an establishment clever enough to combine the two. How can you get more information about working at McDonalds? Look at your receipt, stupid.

www.mcvirginia.com

Look at that! They’ve localized their job openings by state, and went so far as to affix their trademark prefix to the state’s name and register it as a domain name on the world wide web! But hang on, maybe they just did it for VA. Let’s try another.

www.mcmaryland.com

www.mcnewjersey.com

Oh my gosh! That’s some serious forethought. Maybe they overlooked state where there aren’t actual people, just meandering water buffalo…

www.mcwyoming.com

NO WAY! These guys are McRelentless (TM!)! Ok, it turns out, that by going to www.mcstate.com, it clearly shows that they’ve gone ahead and registered all the dotcoms of state names with their M-C in front. So for all you aspiring rappers who have a strong affinity of geography and would like your own website, you’re out of luck. Enjoy being relegated to MySpace.

What’s this?

The only exception to the rule comes to us from Hawaii. The website for burger flipping positions in Maui is actually www.mchawaii.net, rather than .com. Why? Because it appears the Management Consultants of Hawaii has beaten a certain fast food behemoth to the punch.

Grimace is not going to stand for this.